Asgardian Servants and Sewing Skills
by Sherlockianfangirl36
Summary: Set sometime during TDW. All Loki wants is to be allowed to die peacefully. To do so, he must continue to disobey Odin's stringent rules on dungeon cleanliness. Frigga intervenes, employing a servant to watch out for him and ensure his safety. Complications ensue when he begins to learn that she is more than just a servant girl.
1. Closed Lips

Twenty paces in one direction…Ten paces in the other. Loki walked his cell again and again, plotting, scheming.

He sat down. He placed his head in his hands. What was the use?

He scanned his cage again. Sparse furnishings, though luxurious compared to what the other prisoners were supplied. No doubt because of his mother. He stood and crossed to a small pile of books haphazardly splayed across his floor, knocked down from his last fit of pacing. Kneeling over them, he picked up a thin green volume, mulling over the title, silently wondering how she knew just what he would want with him…

He shook his head slightly, dispelling thoughts of his mother, of his… _family_. The word felt foreign even inside of his own head. Had he truly any family?

No matter. Perhaps it was better to fill his head with books rather than of…other things. He chose the first book from the stack and laid himself down, opening the pages over his head. He barely even made it through the first quarter when he threw the book down and turned over. His cell was a mess. Not only were there the books he almost tripped over, but his blankets had been thrown to the floor, and his very limited number of possessions were stacked about in an unorganized manner on the table in the corner. He smirked thinking his mother would try to scold him for such a thing.

Scold him for having a messy room…while he was a prisoner of war. Surely, she wouldn't. All the same, he twisted up the corners of his mouth and thought for a solid minute about getting up to clean. Turning over suddenly, he decided against it. He propped himself up on his side to observe the prisoner across from him. _Disgusting…not worth further comment._ His stomach lurched when he again realized how far his mother must have gone to procure him the furnishings she had. Not to mention the books. Where she would even find those particular volumes was a mystery to him.

Loki's eyes continued to scan, noting that the cell of that prisoner was spotless. _Maybe he has a maid,_ he chuckled to himself, realizing that it was more than likely just threats that kept his living area clean. Though he'd been there scarcely a week, Loki imagined that Odin's ego would get quite the kick from parading guests through these halls, showing off his prisoners like caged animals in a zoo. Loki scowled. There must be some way out.

He looked down again at the mess in his cell. Surely, his mother would have enough presence of mind to keep from scolding him for it, but did she hold enough sway to keep Odin from making good on the threats he suspected were given to the other prisoners?

He'd certainly like to find out.

As it turns out, he didn't have to wait long. The next day Frigga showed up, appearing in a spiral of lights. Loki did not move from his bed, nor turn to face her.

She breathed in sharply.

"Son…"

Loki smirked without joy but gave no other signs of irritation.

Frigga moved to sit beside him on the bed. Loki shifted his position sharply so that he sat upright.

"Odin-" Loki noted that she no longer addressed him as "your father" while in his presence "-brought through some of his more… _fastidious_ guests the night previous. I believe you were asleep."

"That's generally what I do at night, yes."

"They couldn't help but notice the state of your…of your room."

Loki turned his head to face her. "My _room_? Have you been in here? Are you not here with me now? This is not a room." He stood, and turned dramatically around the room, his arms opened widely. " _This…_ is a cage."

Frigga's lips tightened into a straight line.

"Son," she swallowed as Loki's eyes narrowed, "I am trying to protect you. Odin is too proud to come and see you," here Loki again smiled without feeling, "but I, as your mother, must warn you."

"Of what?" He asked, wringing his hands behind his back.

Frigga stood, moving with Loki to look out into the passageway.

"Have you not looked around you? Does it not occur to you that every room but yours has something in common?"

Loki feigned a thoughtful expression. "Less furniture? I guess being the ex-Prince does come with a few perks."

Frigga inhaled sharply. "If you do not keep this _room_ ," her expression was like a slap in his face, "presentable, Odin will punish you. He has done so to others before."

Loki bore no discernable expression.

"If you think he will have mercy on you because you're his…" she paused. "If you think he'll show you any favoritism, you're mistaken. Everything you have here," she imitated her son's earlier actions by twirling about the room, "is because of me." She tapped him on the chest, her nonexistent finger delving into his chest. "Your heart beats because of me."

Loki chuckled, amused by his mother's fire-like spirit. "I see. Because my birthright was to die, was it not? Is that what Odin will do to me. Kill me?"

She backed away. Looking out of the cell, she pointed to the prisoner across the passage. The one Loki had thought of only as disgusting. "Do you see him?"

Loki nodded.

"I'm sure you've noticed the state of his room."

Loki would not give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her statement.

"It's spotless, is it not?"

He remained silent.

"Tell me, have you ever heard that prisoner make any noise? Has he ever spoken in the entirety of your stay?"

Loki sighed, "Do you have a point? I doubt I would be able to hear him through this," he tapped the field around his cell, "anyway."

Frigga stiffened. "Look at him."

Loki rolled his eyes. "I have. Believe me, there was nothing very noteworthy in his appearance."

Frigga met his eye, unflinching. "Look again."

Loki reluctantly acquiesced to his mother's wishes, looking again at his neighbor. He also appeared to be Asgardian, but where Loki was lean and handsome, the man across from him was short, squat, and unappealing. His face was obscured by an unruly beard and his hair puffed out from his head like a lion's mane. Loki stared, unimpressed, until at last his eyes widened.

"By the Norns, is Odin truly so cruel?"

Frigga swallowed, gazing down at her hands. "Starting tomorrow you will be visited by a servant. Please do not refuse their help. I do not know for how long Odin will allow your behavior to continue." Frigga disappeared without another word.

Loki returned to his bed. He sat on the edge, eyes glazed, running his fingers across his lips. Wondering the pain that man had endured when they'd been sewn shut.


	2. Unquiet Nights

Loki had not moved since Frigga first left his cell. To Hel with Odin and his fastidious commands. And speaking of Hel, just what in Hel had she meant by sending him a servant? She knew he wouldn't give in to Odin's commands. What made her think he'd allow this servant to do their work without disturbance? And surely Odin wouldn't allow such a thing. Frigga herself said he should expect no favoritism from him.

Oh, perhaps Odin had no knowledge of it. Perhaps she'd be sending this servant around when Odin was sure to be gone. If no one else, would not his mother know the King's schedule?

Loki grinned to himself, realizing just where his mischievous nature had come from.

Loki's eyes landed back on the prisoner across from him. They locked eyes for a brief second. The prisoner was clearly in pain: his flesh had begun to turn black where his lips had been pierced by the sutures.

Loki supposed that _that_ was a fairly good incentive to allow this servant to tidy up after his messes. He ran his tongue across his lips. He'd always allowed himself to think he was handsome. Or beautiful, depending on what form he chose to take for the day. He had surely never endured a lack of admirers while he still resided as the prince in the palace. If he longed for a companion for the night, he was sure to find one.

How badly would stitches like that mar his appearance?

He shook his head. No, worse than that. The blackened edges of the prisoner's mouth, the way his eyes cried out in constant pain…Loki suspected that both the thread and the needle used to pierce his flesh was the work of elves: powerful, magical elves. What must such a torment do to the bearer?

As much as Loki would relish the opportunity to irk Odin in any way possible, the prospect of having his soft lips sewn shut was decidedly unpleasant. He consented that it would be wise to allow this servant a chance. Either way, he would not be the one obeying Odin's every whim. He could keep that much.

He sat straight up as the light in the middle of his cell began to bend and shimmer. He smirked.

"Hello, mother. Back so soon?"

Frigga crossed over to where he was sitting, a genuine, if not sad, smile tugging against the corners of her lips. "Of course. I've missed you."

Loki chuckled mirthlessly, not stopping to look for any traces of sarcasm. "Where is this servant you promised me? I must admit I'd prefer to continue my rebellion however I can, but it appears that my options are…" he stroked his lips with a long finger, "limited."

"I assure you that I will send one before the day is out. But not until later."

The corner of Loki's lip twitched. "Why? Because your husband has no knowledge of this affair?"

Frigga rubbed her hands together, but her expression remained neutral.

"I thought so. So, it appears I'm not the only one that rebels against the King." Loki stood up and crossed to where Frigga stood in the middle of the cell. "We could be executed for treason, you know."

Frigga simply smiled in return.

"Don't expect me to cooperate with you in this. You may wish for my continued presence here, but I assure you that I have no such wishes for my own life. I would've been more pleased with a swift execution."

Frigga's expression softened. "You said yourself, your options are limited. You're talking yourself in circles, my son."

His eyes narrowed, and he conceded her point mentally, though he would not allow it to pass his lips. If the punishment for his disobedience was death, he would continue without hesitation. But whatever had been done to that… _thing…_ he did not think he wanted to experience the same.

He sat back down on his bed and watched as his mother vanished into the air. That had been a rather short conversation. Perhaps she wanted to ensure his cooperation. Perhaps she'd finally begun to give up on her… her _son._

Was he still that to her?

 _You are not._

No, Odin was not his father. Frigga was not his mother.

Was it as clear cut as that?

Thor was not his brother.

Loki swallowed. His brother had not seen him since he'd first been taken back to Asgard. Loki supposed that he deserved that, considering all that had transpired during his short time on earth. Not that he would ever say it to Thor's face.

No, he would not admit fault to his brother. Or anyone else, for that matter. He could fill stacks upon stacks of books with all he had learned during his absence from Asgard…and all he'd been made to endure. He rubbed a palm against his forehead, trying to wipe away the thoughts.

He still had nightmares, almost every night. He'd wake up in a cold sweat, hands shaking, heart racing. But he never screamed. Even when he felt as though his heart was going to jump from his chest, he never screamed. It was not in his nature to scream or to beg.

Instead, he lay awake in his bed, trying to still his trembling hands, breathing deeply to calm his pulse. He would always reach over the side of his bed, to just underneath. He would produce the slight green volume his mother had brought him, and turn to the same page, reading himself the same words every time. Every. Damn. Time.

He would again never speak such a thing out loud, but he feared to close his eyes every night. He would continually wait until his eyes could remain open no longer. Until he had no choice but to sleep. Willing or unwilling, either way, his sleep did not last long.

It was no matter, concealing the blackened circles beneath his dulling eyes was not much of a problem for him. A simple spell.

He was sure that his mother could see straight through it. She was the one that had taught him such things, after all.

Running a hand from his unkempt hair, he lowered his spell, allowing his eyes to return to their now natural state. He was glad he could not see himself at the moment.

He'd begun to feel tired again. He felt himself slipping. His eyes begun to close of their own will. He succumbed to sleep, drifting away in a world of darkness and of nightmare.

When he awoke, his cell was spotless.


	3. Servant's Touch

Loki blinked once, twice…he closed his eyes, reopening them again a few seconds later. No…still there. Or rather, _not_ there. It seemed his mother's servant had made their appearance. Everything was spotless. He surveyed the room. All his belongings were neatly organized, the mess on the floor had been removed, and his books…

 _My gods._

Loki sat up frantically, reaching a hand beneath his bed.

 _Still there. Good._

He scowled, thinking to himself. Surely, Odin would see this as an act of obedience on his part. He'd been weighing his options for the past day, his thoughts constantly churning, debating whether or not he would risk pain for a few moments of rebellious pleasure.

There wasn't much else to do.

Of course, if he continued to defy Odin's will even after his lips were sewn shut…would Odin finally execute him? Loki smirked. Nothing would please him more than to be rid of his tiny cell, with his tiny furniture, and dusty old books.

But there was also the matter of the damned servant Frigga had sent to his cell while he slept. Loki was not entirely sure how Frigga worked out the logistics. Was she watching him now? Stalking him with her magic? Did she wait for him to drop a crumb on the floor before sending in help? Would it be pointless to make more messes, if she only sent her servant running each time Odin was out of earshot?

Loki chewed his bottom lip. He was certain there were very few servants that would want to be of help to him. They must owe something to Frigga. If that were the case, perhaps they would not stay if he continued to make their job miserable. How far would they be willing to go for the Queen? Would she be able to find a replacement, anyway?

Loki did not know. So, he waited. And watched.

That night he did not sleep, and his mother did not come to visit him. But at some point during the night, he heard footsteps descending in the hallway. They were much too light to be coming from Odin.

 _So, it seems as though the servant is sent to do their work on a nightly basis. I suppose Frigga isn't watching me then._

Would it always be this way? Surely Odin would not be gone at the exact same time every night? Was he truly that predictable? Loki stroked his chin. _Yes._

The footsteps reached his cell, and, while he could discern a hand pressing up and slipping through the field of his cell, he could not yet make out their face in the dark.

When the servant finally entered, they gave an alarmed gasp.

Whether it was because Loki sat straight up on his bed, staring, or because he had totally trashed the room before their entrance, was unclear.

The servant remained silent.

Loki smirked mischievously, eyeing the girl that had entered his cell. She was short, at least a foot shorter than himself. She had unruly red hair working its way out from a bun that sat atop her head. She wore the plain clothes of a servant, but the green in her bodice set off the green flecks in her eyes. The bodice worked in her favor, lengthening her short body, which was not entirely unpleasant. She was not thin. She was not overweight. She was there, and her body curved with her dress in the appropriate places. Loki felt as though he had seen her around the palace before, though he could not remember when.

"Hello, darling. Can I help you?"

The servant held her ground and locked eyes with Loki. "I've been sent by Frigga." Her eyes shifted to the mess around her feet. "It appears that you're in desperate need of some help."

Loki stood, crossing over to the servant. She held his gaze but backed up against the wall all the same.

"Oh, I am. But not yours. Get out."

She refused to move. Loki set his hands on either side of her head, looming over her. He leaned down to whisper into her ear.

"I asked you to leave. Will you not listen to your Prince?"

Loki felt her breath shudder out in a chuckle.

"I don't believe you're my Prince anymore, and either way I'd much prefer to obey the orders of my Queen."

Loki stood back, once again staring at her with intensity in his eyes.

"I see. So you _are_ bound to the Queen. That's why you're here, isn't it? To repay her a debt. Perhaps she's blackmailing you…" Loki trailed off, looking away, ashamed that he had even suggested such a thing of his mother. From Odin, surely. But Frigga…never. The servant was here for some other reason.

To Loki's great surprise, the servant put her arms against his chest and pushed him backward.

"I am here of my own free will and I will not be bullied out of a job that is rightfully mine." She cleared her throat and stared at the ground as if her speech had shocked even herself. "If you'll excuse me, _my Prince,_ I have something to do."

Loki's lips turned up in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. With what he hoped to be a look of defeat, he returned to his place on his bed, allowing the servant to conduct her business. It took quite some time. Loki was proud, really. He was never good at keeping things clean or straightening things out, but he was certainly more than able to create a bit of chaos.

As he watched the servant work, his eyelids began once more to weigh down. He knew he would soon fall asleep. That he would soon be plunged again into his nightmares. He began to breathe heavily, his body betraying his distress.

The servant turned around but was unwilling to approach him.

"Is the Prince feeling quite well?"

"I'm fine!" He shouted in reply. "Just hurry up and get out of my sight!"

The servant smiled knowingly at him.

"I was here last night, you know. I heard the kind of things you dream of." She held eye contact with him briefly before kneeling down to pick up a broken glass.

Loki grit his teeth.

 _Damn woman. These next few days aren't going to be pleasant for her._


	4. I Know You

One thing was dreadfully unclear to Frigga: Loki would rather die than spend the remainder of his woefully long life in this tiny cell. Twenty paces one way, ten paces another. March to one side of the cell. Back to the other. Overturn the tables and chairs. Throw the books (all but one), dishevel the bed…Loki did everything he could to ensure his… _maid_ would not be coming back.

He was sure that she would do her best to remain dutiful to her queen, but, since Loki could reasonably deduce that the servant was not being blackmailed into the position, how long would that sense of duty last? Loki wondered inwardly if Frigga would hold a servant to a position they were dreadfully unhappy with. Loki wondered if the servant girl would ever voice her unhappiness to the Queen in the first place.

Surely, the girl would have to report back to Frigga regularly. Regardless of whether or not the servant voiced her own feelings on the matter, Frigga would eventually pick up on the fact that Loki wanted nothing to do with her "help." This deduction could, of course, be decidedly inaccurate depending on how much information the servant decided to share with Frigga. However, he had no reason to believe that she would do anything to "protect" a convicted war criminal. Frigga would eventually be forced to confront him.

But, oh gods, what if Frigga decided to come down here herself to clean up after his messes? Loki shook his head and continued pacing. He was done making his mess for now.

Would Frigga be able to escape the watchful eyes of Odin? She was cunning, certainly, but the lengths that she would need to go to to do so…Loki doubted that that was an outcome he should dwell on for too long. So, with a sigh contented by his destructive work, Loki sat on the edge of his bed and hoped for death.

* * *

Hours later, Loki jerked awake, disappointed that he had slept through his maid's cleaning session. He was pleased, however, that he had experienced no nightmares; she couldn't hold them over his head as she had the night previous. Loki scowled, his chest filling with anger as memories flooded through his vision. Memories of his dreams mixed with the tormenting sound of that woman's voice.

 _I heard the kind of things you dream of._

Loki shook his head again, trying to physically dislodge the memory.

But, without her voice in his head, all that came back to him was the nightmares.

* * *

For days, Loki continued to trash his cells, and for days, the servant continued to dutifully come and clean. And, for days, he still had not received any scolding from Frigga.

Each time, he slept through the maid's arrival.

He had, at first, been disappointed that he could not stay awake long enough to confront her, to make her job more miserable than it already was. But, when he thought back to their first encounter, he began to fidget at the thought that someone _knew_ the kind of things he dreamt, the names that he screamed out in the middle of the night. It disturbed him deeply that someone else had been given a mere glimpse of the pain that had led up to his actions on earth.

He was ashamed, mortified, humiliated, etc. Oh, he would never voice this thought out loud, and as soon as it entered his head, he dispelled the thought instantaneously.

Why should he feel that way?

Because he was a god.

No…perhaps not.

Maybe that was what he was so ashamed of. His personal façade of power had begun to crumble. His nightmares were evidence of his…his _weakness._ He had the consolation that it had only been a meaningless servant girl that had heard him. Although, that was not much consolation at all.

He wished that she would leave him and his cell in peace, that Frigga would give up on him, and that he would be allowed to die.

That was all he wanted.

Tonight, he would keep watch for the servant.

* * *

She came at what he assumed was the usual time, although he had no means of telling time. That was sure to drive one mad, and he made it a point to ask Frigga what time it was whenever she entered his cell.

"Hello again, darling," he whispered from the corner of his cell, in which he was leaning against the wall. The servant did not act surprised, she merely turned to face him.

"Greetings…" she seemed to struggle with a suitable name for him, so she settled with " _Prince."_

Loki did not speak to her again for some time. She surveyed the room, pieces of furniture scattered and broken, everything in complete chaos. She sighed and began her work.

The first night Loki had ruined the tidy interior of his cell, he had not broken much. The last few times, he had broken quite a bit. Legs off of chairs and tables, things like that. As he never stayed awake to watch the woman do her work, he had only assumed that she had somehow managed to surreptitiously replace his furnishings before the morning. It wouldn't have been impossible, seeing as how everything he had been given was terribly generic, and he didn't much care for any of it to look too closely.

Except, of course, for his book.

 _What foolish thoughts._

Loki looked on to the servant girl, with his mouth agape, as she deftly repaired the furniture with her…magic? Exactly who was this girl?

She turned to look at him as she bent over a broken chair, her fingers tingling with a bright glow. She smiled in a friendly way, almost teasing him.

Loki couldn't think of a better time to ask, so he did.

"Why do you keep coming back?"

The girl tilted her head in confusion. "Pardon? I am bound by loyalty to the Queen. It is her wish that I serve you."

Loki moved from the corner, crossing over debris to kneel in front of the girl. She looked away but did not move.

"No…" Now Loki tilted his head, emulating her, "I think, and I've given it quite a bit of thought, that you're lying to my mother about what happens here every night."

Her face colored, but she gave no response.

"Oh," Loki said with feigned excitement, "So I'm right?" He stood up, rubbing his eyes and forehead with irritation. "Why would you do that?"

He received no answer, she only kept up her work.

"Why?" He asked again with increased volume. He noted with a self-satisfied grin that he had finally made her jump.

Still, he received no answer.

"I could hurt you quite badly, you know." Loki stomped over to her again, looming over her crouched figure.

She managed to look up at him. "I don't think you will."

Loki chuckled, "And why is that?"

She stood up, drawing herself to full height, which was, admittedly, still much shorter than Loki. "Because," she swallowed, "I know you."


	5. Midgardian Poetry

Loki laughed sardonically.

"Know me? Surely, you're joking," he frowned. "Cleaning up my messes does not equate friendship. You're not quite my type, either."

"I-" she paused, gnawing at the corner of her lip.

Loki grinned, realizing he'd finally broken down what he'd always assumed to be her false bravado.

"What? No quipping remarks for _your prince_? Do you always crumble when you're questioned?"

She inhaled, and Loki could see her defenses raising again.

"Well," she smiled coyly, "I'll come back tomorrow night with new remarks if you step aside and allow me to finish my work here. I wouldn't want to displease the Queen."

He heard her voice crack slightly. He would be appalled if she started to cry.

"Oh yes," Loki stepped to the side, allowing her to continue her work, "my mother."

Loki sat down on the edge of his still disheveled bed, annoyed at her resistance. He was sure that this servant girl was withholding information from the Queen. But why?

He was almost positive he didn't know this girl, yet he'd always felt that she seemed familiar in some way.

Putting on his most charming smile and speaking with his deepest, most sultry voice, he said, "If you won't answer questions about my mother, perhaps you'll tell me how you know me."

The servant girl swallowed and held her breath, kneeling down over a pile of books that had been knocked from their place.

"Oh, you really like to keep your secrets, don't you?"

She went back to rearranging.

"Perhaps you enjoy a flair for the dramatic?"

Loki hardly even noticed when she failed to reply.

"I've often been told that I myself have a flair for the dramatic. Even when I was younger. There was this one time when I disguised myself as a snake an-"

He widened his eyes and stopped talking, wondering exactly what he had been playing at. What good would it do to tell someone like her a story about himself? Had he really been alone for so long that he was just desperate to share something? A moment, or a word?

No, he thought to himself. That's not what he wanted. He didn't want her kind looks, the sound of her voice when it cracked under pressure, or her soft hands brushing up against him. He wanted information. He wanted her to trust him. He wanted to leave or die, possibly both, and one of the best ways to achieve that goal was to get her help. She knew the dungeons inside and out. Heimdall would be the only problem, but that was a problem for another day.

The servant girl was the problem at the moment.

He sighed and spoke more softly this time. "Do you?"

This time, the girl shifted slightly and turned her head to look at him.

"Do I what?"

He smiling as disarmingly as he could. "Do you have a flair for the dramatic?"

She raised her eyebrows slightly. "Surely, my prince wouldn't be interested in something as paltry as that."

"Miss, I've already seen you almost break down crying in my cell. I think you can stop with the bravado and the 'my prince' bit, don't you?" He felt pride in his own dramatic acting at that moment.

"I suppose," she twisted her mouth slightly, thinking, "that I do enjoy drama from time to time."

Loki exhaled quickly, smirking. _That's more like it._ He was making progress, but he needed for this to go further. He feared to go too far, too quickly, of making her suspicious, but despite her abrasive front, he sensed that she was a soft, trusting girl. A woman? Certainly, approaching her as such was bound to get him farther.

"Well then," he stood and turned to face his bed, "Perhaps you wouldn't mind if I read to you while you worked." He slid his hand beneath the corner of his mattress and drew out a small green covered book.

The servant seemed to blush but tried again to put up her front, which was Loki thought to be rapidly failing the more he charmed her with his smooth voice and kind smile.

"I suppose that would be acceptable."

Loki pretended to flip aimlessly through the small volume, but wound up at the page he always did, reading the same lines, stopping at the same place, never finishing.

 _What portions have I drunk of sirens tears,_

 _Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within,_

 _Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,_

 _Still losing when I saw myself to win!_

The servant stopped her hands where they were. "Is that truly how you think?"

Loki was careful and calculating in his answer. He was playing a part, better than she played hers. She, the kind trusting servant, tried to play the part of a heartless pawn of the Queen. Under any pressure, she would crack.

He had to turn the tables, to play the part of the kind and trusting prince, and not just the prince who was going to use this girl so he could get out of the Hel of his cage. He could not crack. He had to play two parts. He had to be that kind, trusting soul, but he had to pretend that he was not so soft—he had to intrigue this lowly servant girl just enough to keep her coming back.

"N-no," he stammered precisely, "Of course not. I just thought that it was an exemplary piece of Midgardian poetry."

"Midgardian?" She questioned, clearly surprised by his choice.

"Yes."

She made no reply.

"You see," he continued, "During my time there, it was all I had to keep me sane."

Oh, surely he had played his part convincingly.

The servant chuckled, almost darkly. Loki screwed up the corners of his mouth.

"Excuse me?"

She turned to look at him, mischief dancing in her own eyes. "I'm sorry my prince. You see, being a servant at the palace, you hear many people, men and women, talking just like that, making themselves into something they're not."

Loki closed his eyes, clenching his fists. _Damn._

She stood, walking over to where he sat, folding her hands respectfully over the front of her dress. "You may be able to see past one layer of me, but don't assume that being soft makes me weak or stupid. Watching me clean your messes does not mean you know me."

She laid her hand against his cheek.

"I've finished my cleaning. I hope the prince will sleep well tonight."

Loki had only one thought: _What the Hel was that?_


	6. Leave

Loki was falling.

He was always falling.

And it was always dark. Sometimes it was so dark-such an empty, soulless void-that he couldn't tell if he was actually falling or not. Maybe he was just floating in the blackness—helpless, suspended, static.

He was never quite sure, though, and that tended to make it worse. And even if he could figure where he was, and what was happening, he never knew which direction he should go. Should he keep falling? Spiraling downward as far as the eye could see? Or should he bear the pain and try to escape?

Would it be painful? He thought so. He hadn't tried yet.

Instead, he fell, and fell, and fell. That was what he was supposed to do, right? That's what they expected.

He never really knew who _they_ were. But their image pressed against the back of his eyes, wanting to be seen, waiting to be seen, yet always out of sight. But he knew they wanted him to fall. They told him that that was what he was _supposed_ to do and that it would be the easiest for _everyone_.

Except, it wasn't easy. It was unbearably painful; with every inch he slid down into the abyss, he felt his mind twist and turn, and his body morph into something unrecognizable and… _monstrous._

 _Because I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?_

He whimpered, and moaned, and a scream tore through his throat, lost in nothing.

* * *

He woke up in a cold sweat.

But he wasn't alone, and as his breathing started to slow and his eyes cleared of sleep, he could feel a hand resting gingerly against his forehead.

He swatted it away. The servant swallowed.

Loki sat up.

"What are you doing here?" He growled. "Get out."

"I'm performing my duties for the night." She spoke the words robotically. The sound began to grate against Loki's ears.

 _Stubborn as always, I see. We both know you're not as tough as you let on._

From experience, Loki knew that even if he screamed and put on a show, she would not leave, and she would never admit to being frightened by him. Maybe she wasn't fearless, but she was certainly obstinate.

Which meant, that he needed to find some other way to get her to leave. He wanted to be alone. He was tired of her always being around, and he didn't want her to have one more of his nightmares to lord over his head for the eternity he was likely to spend in this damn cage.

Not to mention it was humiliating.

And what exactly did she think she was doing, touching him like that?

He sat thinking for a moment. He stared her straight in the eye. She held his gaze, unwavering, and a faint blush began to spread over her full cheeks.

 _Aha_. _She's embarrassed. I can work with that._

She was sitting on the very edge of his bed, sharing the space with him. He took the hand she had laid on his forehead and pulled it close to him.

"So _that's_ why you keep coming back, is it?"

The blush stayed on her face, but she pulled her hand back resolutely.

"I've already told you why I come back." She averted her gaze and walked over to where she had been cleaning before.

Loki followed suit, bending down to face her crouched figure.

"Really? So, obeying your Queen includes fawning over an unwanted Prince?"

She made no answer, cleaning a corner that already looked to have been scrubbed five times over.

"Oh, my dear," he edged closer to her, relishing the way she shifted uncomfortably, "I think we both know what you say isn't true."

Still no answer. Her face was bright red.

"What would Frigga think?"

She looked up at him now, appearing dreadfully uncomfortable, but still holding her ground.

"Would you prefer that I leave you to suffer alone?"

 _Yes._

 _A thousand times yes._

He had to be careful about answering this question. Perhaps he shouldn't answer it at all. And just who did she think she was? Did she think she could offer him any comfort?

He was taking too long to answer.

His face screwed up—in pain or confusion, neither of them could be sure.

This was different from anything the servant had seen. He'd been angry and arrogant before. He'd been false and facetious. But he hadn't made a face like that before. His expression was strangely genuine, despite its ambiguity.

"I'm…sorry." The servant said, which shocked Loki more than a little.

"You're…what?"

"I'm sorry…you looked…hurt." Loki drew back slightly. "O-or, perhaps offended. I'm not quite sure."

Loki still looked confused.

The servant giggled slightly, but not sarcastically, and Loki thought for a brief second that her face was not _entirely_ unpleasant to look at when her lips turned up like that, making little dimples in the sides of her cheeks, and…

And nothing. Gods, he'd been alone for far too long.

"I didn't mean to confuse you. You…wear a mask…" She started, waiting for Loki to mock her. But he didn't this time, so she continued. "You always wear a mask. You try to…cover up your real pain with something fake. Like how you read that poem to me."

"That-" Loki started, but the servant silenced him with one of her more harsh looks, and he stopped, intrigued to hear what she had to say.

"But just now, that looked real. So I thought…that I would try to be real with you, too. I can't possibly know all you dream about, or everything about you. And I'm sorry that I can't."

 _So, she's not as tough as she lets on. I was right._

She was wrong, though. Wrong if she thought that a few "real," sweet words would change his mind about letting her stay there. She had weaknesses, yes, and now he knew it.

His face turned hard again, and he laughed in a rough, gravelly tone.

"Darling, I think I prefer it when you're cold to me."

She stood up. So did he. He stared down into her face and she looked up. Loki ran a long, porcelain finger down her red cheeks and licked his lips.

"Why don't you…call me 'My Prince' again? Hmm?"

She looked down, crossing her arms.

He put his arms against the wall on either side of her head, leaning his mouth down to her ear.

"It wouldn't be the first time, you know? A servant, a charming Prince, forbidden love. A night of passion. Oh, the servants I've brought to my chambers. Men and women. They've screamed for their Prince, and sometimes I've screamed for them. Which would you prefer, darling?"

She ducked out from beneath his arm, and he let her go. His face changed from seductive to stone cold.

"Leave," he almost whispered.

He was afraid for her to leave.

 _I'm…sorry._

Her voice was so soft when it was sincere. He watched her walking away and thought about calling her back.

When was the last time Frigga had visited him? How many times had Thor passed by him without even so much as glancing in his direction? And Odin?

He was alone. She was…fascinating, if nothing else. An enigma. Arrogant, cold, unrelenting. But also soft and sweet, and decidedly innocent and inexperienced.

He hated that he was even thinking of calling her back. She was a servant. She was beneath him. She could mean nothing to him. She would never mean anything to him.

That she was even near him when he dreamt was a humiliation, a mark against her. He hated her. He hated that she knew so much about him, even if she knew nothing.

He had made her leave.


	7. What Did I Want Again?

She left.

He had never watched her leave. He never really paid her that much attention. He was usually asleep when she came or went, and he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of watching her.

 _Why would it be satisfying?_

 _You saw the way she blushed. She'd be very satisfied indeed._

This time he watched, though. She didn't deactivate one of the fields and step out, or use some hidden panel (though Loki thought if there was a hidden panel, surely he would have noticed it at this point). No, she left through quite a different means.

She just…vanished.

Just like that, she was gone. He didn't think she'd ever been there in the first place.

Loki threw himself back on his bed, his head swimming a bit too much for things to make sense. He wasn't sure what was happening or what had just happened. Was he truly so lonely that he was starting to find a mere servant to be fascinating?

 _No, no, of course not._

It was…fun. To taunt her, to watch her turn red and leave. It was fun, wasn't it? Was it fun? Certainly, it must be fun to humiliate someone that was starting to hold so much power over him. And she did hold power over him, didn't she? She had sat by when he had been screaming in the night, she heard him calling out the names of his tormentors, or…worse, calling out for names to help him.

And who would he call for? Thor, more than likely. But he had no time to think about Thor. No, rather he would _not_ think about Thor.

 _Thinking about Thor is totally unnecessary._

Not to mention it would cause even more confusion for him. Did he miss him? Did he hate him?

 _Thoughts for another day._

And what of Frigga? Where had she gone? Loki suspected more and more that Odin was beginning to grow suspicious. Come to think of it, he had noticed a guard or two patrolling the hallway while he sat and read in silence. Had they come to spy on him?

Then why would Frigga risk sending her pesky servant to clean up after his messes?

Unless that servant _wanted_ to be there. Would Frigga stop her from coming? Was she just coming on her own now? And why? He was increasingly suspicious of that girl's motives and whether or not she was telling Frigga the whole truth.

And…speaking of that girl, vanishing like that…was she a witch?

A thought nagged at the edge of Loki's mind.

It made sense.

 _Has Frigga been teaching this girl magic? Is caring for me the price she must pay for it?_

Cleaning up after Loki was admittedly a very demanding job. But it was also a very dangerous job. Odin would likely not hesitate to exile or even kill someone for helping him.

 _After all, my birthright is to die, isn't it?_

 _Isn't it?_

Gods, he didn't care anymore. He didn't want to care. He wanted to leave, to die, whatever got him out of this prison.

Perhaps he could make a bargain.

* * *

"Hello, Darling," Loki purred the next time the servant showed up. He hadn't bothered counting the days. He thought it had been days. He wasn't sure. He hadn't slept in a while.

She only smiled curtly.

 _Oh, dear, have my actions condemned me to the cold shoulder? Just when she was starting to open up to me, too,_ he thought, though with a twinge of sarcasm.

"Would you like me to read to you today?"

She looked up from yet _another_ piece of broken furniture.

"No thank you, My Prince."

 _She speaks!_

Loki noticed with barely concealed arrogance that the phrase _My Prince_ sent a blush across her temples. Gods, he didn't think he could resist teasing her.

"You can call me 'My King' if it makes you feel more comfortable."

She didn't bother replying, though Loki was not surprised.

"I do hope you can forgive me for my behavior the last time we met." He walked over towards her. "I simply couldn't help myself."

She still refused to reply.

 _This won't work unless you start talking back, woman._

"Is that a no?"

He bent to his knees in front of her and pushed her chin up with one finger. This time she met his eyes without flinching.

 _Oh, so we're being brave again, are we?_

Loki started breathing heavily when she wouldn't reply. He stood abruptly and paced to the corner of his cell.

 _Gods, why can't this woman ever cooperate with_ anything _I do? I thought she couldn't resist taunting me? What could she possibly want? I_ need _her to speak. I need her to cooperate._

Loki felt a faint surge of panic rising in his throat.

"Speak, damn it!"

She flinched, and Loki froze, surprised at himself.

She twisted her lips.

"What would my…What would you have me to say?"

Loki no longer found satisfaction in her embarrassment. She was not fascinating. She was not a companion for him. She would listen to him now. She would speak. They would conspire. And she would be his tool. That's all.

He crossed over to her again and grabbed her arm to pull her to her feet. He led her towards his bed and motioned for her to sit, and then took a seat next to her. He made sure to leave a bit of distance between them.

"I will ask again," he almost whispered, "why are you here?"

She furrowed her eyebrows slightly.

"I don't want to hear that it is because of 'Your Queen.' I don't think she knows how often you come. I don't think that she knows you're here right now. And," he continued, "I think she's the one who's taught you those wonderful little magic tricks you perform every night. Am I wrong?"

As usual, no reply. Loki sighed. He was tempted to ask her what it would take to make her speak, but he doubted that would help. She would reply only when she was comfortable doing so.

"Truthfully," he added nonetheless, "I think that in my absence, you have earned great sway with my…with the Queen."

She sucked in a breath. He was right. But she still made no answer. Loki was beyond frustrated with her taciturnity. He tried being dramatic, he had tried eliciting sympathy. He'd been seductive, but that had only driven her further away. He was admittedly stumped with how to approach this girl.

She _had_ answered him civilly once. Only once. But that was when he _apparently_ looked confused and hurt.

It was, apparently, the only time he'd been "real" to her.

Then perhaps he should just come out with the truth.

"Listen to me. You can't like this," he motioned to the mess around him, "It can't be remotely enjoyable to you. Yes?"

She looked up, ready to make a reply about her duties, but he held a finger to her lips. Gently this time.

"You come in here, I berate you, manipulate you, try to seduce you…and you insult me coyly in return. Great fun for the two of us."

 _Except now you won't even look at me._

He paused a moment.

"You are _here_ right now, are you not?"

She nodded.

 _Why had she not come in person to my cell that night?_

"So, surely, you and I would both be pleased if this all ended swiftly. Our other option is to spend the next three-thousand or so years in this…thrilling battle of wits."

She raised an eyebrow but made no reply. Loki was unsure of what she was thinking.

"There is, however, a simple solution. Stop coming. When and _if_ the Queen asks you about it," he was unsure of Frigga's feelings for him at the moment, "I want you to tell her what I want, and I want you to use _whatever_ power you seem to have to get her to do one thing."

She looked intrigued.

"Yes, Loki?"

Loki's eyes widened slightly.

"Pardon?"

She blushed. He was not expecting her to use his name so casually. He was technically still a Prince. She had called him Prince repeatedly. Did his "seduction" really get to her that much?

He wondered faintly if he was blushing, too.

"Excuse me, I just thought if we were to spend three-thousand years together we should be on a first-name basis."

 _You just don't want to call me "My Prince" anymore._

Loki hadn't replied. He was hesitant about finishing his request now, and he wasn't quite sure why.

"Are you quite all right? You've gone blue in the face."

"You're…confusing." He didn't mean to say that. But those were the words that came out of his lips. Why had those words come out of his lips?

"How has a humble servant such as I managed to confuse his majesty?"

Loki was tempted to take offense, but he noted the way the left side of her lip turned up into a defiant smile and he faltered.

 _At least she seems to be back to normal, now._

Gods, he almost wanted to keep talking with her. What a concept.

"I'm never sure if you're trying to deliberately insult me, or you're just very frightened; neither do I understand any of the comments you made the last time you came to visit me."

She fidgeted in her seat.

Loki felt himself moving a fraction of an inch closer to her.

 _What the Hel do you think you're doing?_

Manipulation and seduction wouldn't get what he wanted.

 _What did I want again?_

Maybe kindness would.

But at the moment, he couldn't remember what he wanted.

"Speak…please."

Her eyes widened in confusion.

"Would you blame me if I was afraid? I have every right to be. This isn't exactly the safest job in all of the realms."

Loki smiled a bit despite himself. Her attitude made a little more sense in that frame.

"No…I suppose not. But why would try to be kind to me, then? Why would you…" He thought about the night she had laid her hand on his forehead, but he trailed off.

"You know…" She started, and Loki was surprised by how relaxed her voice had become. It was quite different from her monotone drawls on duty and the Queen. It was soft. Gentle. In a way, it reminded him of his mother's.

He only caught the last of her sentence.

"…was raised in the palace."

He cocked an eyebrow, wishing for her to proceed.

"My mother waited on yours," Loki's brow furrowed, "And my father was a guard. You were much older than me by the time I was born. I still…watched you quite a bit." She blushed and her eyes drifted to the corner of the room.

Loki wondered if that's why she had claimed so readily to know him.

She saw his face and immediately rushed in with "That's not why I said I know you, though!"

Loki would have continued his questions, but he heard clomping footsteps from down the hallway. Loki cast an illusion over her so she could remain unseen. He grabbed a book and propped his feet up on the bed. He smirked as the guard passed by.

As the servant returned to sight, Loki caught her mumbling, "I could have done that myself."

It was quite amusing, really.

"You need to leave now. It might not be…"

 _Safe. What do I care about her safety?_

"Yes, right," she replied. "But you never told me what you wanted."

Loki looked up at her.

"It can wait another day. Go now."


	8. Loki

_What did I want?_

That question had an easy answer, yet Loki had failed to bring the words to his lips when he'd heard his name spoken. When was the last time he'd heard his name? Frigga hadn't seen him in…gods, was he even counting? Was it weeks? Had it been a month? And when had he last heard it spoken with such…a softness?

Loki wanted one thing, and one thing only. He wanted his miserable little servant girl to use whatever sway she had with the Queen to convince her to let Odin follow through with his threats of execution. He had no desire to spend the rest of his days wallowing away in self-pity. He didn't want to watch himself grow older, and older. To look into his face and see nothing of his mother. To turn into more of a stranger than he was now. He raised a hand, willing it to turn blue and noting the fine lines that ran down its lengths.

Surely such a monster deserved to die? Not for his crimes, not for the deaths of those he'd try to rule, but for his very existence.

But why couldn't he just say that? He was stupid, and ignorant, and let his head be swayed by a boring girl who had done nothing more than said his name without contempt, for what he was sure must have been the first time in her life.

 _Loki._

She was a mystery in herself, defiant one second, sheepish the next. She was frightened, but she tried so, so hard to hide it. She was not as skilled as Loki was in that arena, nonetheless. Loki let his mind wander, and wondered briefly how she would act around him if she wasn't frightened.

 _I suppose I've ruined all chances of that happening, though, now haven't I?_

Solitude of this sort was so foreign to him. He was accustomed for most of his life to being around others, and yet feeling alone. He looked at his hand, which was still blue, noting that that had done nothing but exacerbate his loneliness. This, though…He couldn't even _pretend_ like he wasn't alone.

Because now all he had was one boring girl to torment, and that's the only reason he felt distracted by her.

 _That's right._

It made sense for him to not finish his request. Loki.

 _My name._

He formed the word with his lips, feeling the soft clicking of his tongue as he pronounced it over and over again. He liked hearing it. And yet, he had not heard it in so long. The more he said it, the more it lost its meaning to him; yet, he noted that it was still the most personal thing anyone could say to him. It said, _I know you._ When his mother spoke it to him, visiting him when no one else would, it said _I love you._ When Thor spoke the word, as children and in the past, it was strong and true, and always meant, _You're my brother, no matter what._

What did it mean when she said it?

For the first time since the girl had arrived, he wondered what her name was.

* * *

She came again the next night. Loki had stayed awake, waiting.

She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow when she entered. It was spotless. Loki grinned sleepily.

The girl seemed to ignore any connection they had felt before, as she turned around to leave, murmuring, "all right, then" on her lips.

 _I would be suspicious, too. Perhaps she's smarter than I gave her credit for._

"Wait!" Loki half-shouted, half-whispered. "Come sit."

The girl turned back to face Loki, but sat down on the floor, away from where he was positioned on the bed.

This time he showed his teeth as he made a full gesture with his arms to the cell around him. "Beautiful isn't it? Everything in its place. Everything ordered and watched, clean and sparkling, and yet you didn't even have to raise a finger to clean up after your…Prince." He felt a slight tingle in his stomach. What had he done to that word?

If _Loki_ had only a vague and mysterious meaning from either of their lips, Prince had become something seductive, sexual, and utterly fascinating to Loki.

"Wouldn't it be fortuitous for the both of us," he continued, "If you did not have to continue to tidy up, and I didn't have to exert so much energy to make _sure_ you had to tidy up?" He looked self-assured, but he was still highly dissatisfied that his original plan of forcing her to quit with his disobedience had failed so dismally.

She made no response, which Loki took as an invitation to continue. He swung his legs over the bed and sat down across from her. He was pleasantly surprised when she stayed in her place.

Her eyes were green. Not a soft green, but a deep, dark, wholly unnatural green that matched him perfectly.

"Such a wonderful future for the both of us. Would you care to tell me how it could be possible?"

He didn't expect a response apart from mumbling or a grunt, but she tilted her head and replied, "You have to die."

He smirked slightly. He was pleased things were going so smoothly. "Yes, that's right. I have to die. And do you know why I'm not dead yet?"

"Because of your mother."

Loki inhaled sharply. The word sat wrong with him. It didn't belong in his life. He had said it so much that it held no more meaning. She was the Queen, and he—nothing more than a prisoner.

"Yes…because of the Queen. Do you understand? Do you know what I wanted—what I want, now?"

"You want me to convince Frigga that you want to die."

"That I deserve to die."

"From my understanding, you did not feel inclined towards that decision earlier. Do you regret your crimes now?"

 _That was a bold question. Perhaps she's not so afraid of me, anymore._

"Do I deserve to die for following in the footsteps of Odin? That seems unlikely, now doesn't it."

She made no response, but gestured for him to continue. He had nothing left to say.

"Will you do it?"

"Forgive me, Loki—" he fidgeted—"but I fail to see how I can convince the Queen that you deserve to die for your crimes when you do not even feel that way yourself."

"Why, do you think I can't convince her that I agree with the sentiment? I am Loki—" the word felt only slightly less foreign on his lips—"The god of stories, of lies," he licked his lips dramatically, "the silvertongue."

She rose to her and looked down at him. "I won't do it."

He started to breathe heavily. Death had, ironically enough, become his one lifeline. She would not be threatened, she would not be seduced—he thought that he had been more than civil to her during their conversation.

Why could he not just die?

"Then you wish to while away eternity cleaning up after my spills?" He rose, dumping a pile of books on the floor.

She looked down and sighed. He wished she would _say something._ Why couldn't she elaborate? Why?

"Is that what either of us want?"


	9. What This Is About

FYI, this is what is happening to Loki's servant right before she comes in at the last chapter :)

Also, I'm so late in saying this, but thank you sooooo much to everyone that has followed, favorited, or reviewed! I'm thankful for all of you! 3

 _She wound carefully through the halls of the palace, tucking herself behind a pillar reaching from the floor to the ceiling when she heard footsteps, which she found odd, recalling the late hour. She turned her head over her shoulder, watching as the Queen walked past with a troop of her women-in-waiting. She felt her stomach drop, wondering if the Queen would be disappointed in her._

 _She'd told her, quite emphatically, that she wasn't to visit Loki. Odin was suspicious enough as it was; the number of guards patrolling the dungeon hallways had been doubled. She'd told the Queen that it wasn't hard to sneak past a guard or two. After all, she'd been taught by the best. She'd grown up watching the best. Frigga wouldn't hear of it. She had lost her son to the dungeon. She would not lose her, too._

 _After all, could Odin react in any way that would turn out in her favorite? Aiding a criminal. Cleaning up his messes to keep him from execution. Despite the consequences, Frigga had been more than sure that she would accept the job immediately._

 _She turned the corner, still looking to where the Queen had just passed out of sight._

 _She'd failed to notice that Frigga was now right in front of her, minus her entourage of women. She put her arms up in surprise right before she ran into the Queen's chest. She also wondered whether those women had ever been there at all, and Frigga had simply been patrolling the hallways looking for her._

 _"You're going to see Loki, are you not?"_

Damn. I didn't' think I would need magic just to pass through the hall.

 _The girl had been avoiding Frigga for the last few weeks, terrified that Frigga would be able to simply look into her eyes and know what she was doing, and why she was doing it._

 _She halted, and straightened, and replied "Yes."_

 _Frigga approached her, softly, and tucked a stray of loose hair behind her ear. "You won't listen to me, will you?"_

 _She grabbed Frigga's held and held it, "You know I can't do that."_

 _She hated seeing Loki. It was worse at first, when she was the most frightened of him. She knew he could hurt her at any moment, so she hurt him with her words first, building a wall between the two of them—one that she did not want, but one she knew that she would need, at least for the time being. It didn't always work. Sometimes she flinched when he snapped, and she hated herself for it, when he was so cool and calm, and utterly collected. Why weren't they the same?_

 _His trying to seduce her had been worse than the snapping. She thought her silence would keep that from occurring again, but that seemed only to agitate him further. She truly could not seem to keep their relationship distant and amicable—and him alive._

 _Using his name seemed to be the only thing she could to calm him—or was it only agitating him further? It was hard to tell._

 _Gods he frustrated her. Hard, cold, both agitated him, but they were all she could be. She knew he could use her softness and twist it and turn it and manipulate her into doing whatever he wanted. It was better this way._

 _"You're not alone, child."_

I never mattered until Loki left, though, did I?"

 _"I know, My Queen—" She blushed slightly, thinking about_ Her Prince— _"I am sorry for hiding from you. I'm sorry for all of this." She gestured vaguely to herself and the entire room. She felt a giggly panic rising up in the back of her throat._

How ridiculous it would be to start laughing _now._

 _She looked at the Queen for a long time, wondering if she would be scolded or perhaps herself put into the dungeon. She didn't think she would be able to handle that. It was one thing going in the night to attend to Loki, pretending for a few minutes that she was brave, and that her heart wasn't pounding in her chest and she wasn't about to pass out._

 _It would be another entirely to be there herself._

 _Her breath started coming quick and fast and she felt her eyes burning at the edges. She gulped when Frigga used their entwined hands to pull them together and embrace her. She stood there for a moment, arms hanging awkwardly at her sides, a sob still threatening to come from her throat. Then she wrapped her arms around the Queen and squeezed her back, digging her fingers into the fabric of her dresses harder than was probably comfortable, and burying herself in the scent of her hair. Frigga pulled away first. She held the girl at arm's length and looked her in the eye._

 _"I trust you. I hope you can talk some sense into that son of mine."_

 _The girl nodded, not sure what to say._

 _"You know—" Frigga supplied—"I watched you when you went to see him. You were very brave. So stoic, exactly like I showed you. I hardly recognized you."_

 _The girl smiled wide. "You know I always obey my Queen." Frigga squinted and she added, "Er…almost always."_

 _Frigga let her go. "I give you leave to disobey me, this once. Do what you need to."_

 _She hugged Frigga once more, before she trotted off down the hall, forgetting for a moment that she was trying to be stealthy._

 _Her head was swimming, thinking of the Queen's words, of telling her that she was not alone. But she was, wasn't she? That's what this was all about, wasn't it?_

 _It was all about being alone._


End file.
